


Red, As Seen Through a Filter

by lirin



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-06-22 15:56:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15585417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lirin/pseuds/lirin
Summary: She introduces herself as Wanda, just Wanda, and he doesn't know about the scarlet then.





	Red, As Seen Through a Filter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VampirePaladin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampirePaladin/gifts).



She introduces herself as Wanda, just Wanda, and Scott doesn't know about the scarlet then. Her coat looks rather drab—brown or gray or some other neutral—and if he'd bothered to think about it, he might have guessed that it could be red, but he doesn't stop to think about that. Colors lose much of their importance, when you know you'll never again see them as you once did, in all their vivid glory.

Wanda's magic will turn out to be red too, but nothing, not even ruby quartz, can stop it from being bright and beautiful. It's one of the most wonderful things he's ever seen; it flares around her fingers, and he remembers sunbeams, bursting through clouds as a gray day turned to blue.

* * *

They meet again in a back alley in Copenhagen. Another day, another thing to fight for. Today it's two young mutants, neither even in their teens, and he's the only X-Man who could be spared, so he's glad of the assistance. He punches holes (literally) in the captors' security and keeps their goons busy, while Wanda flies up to the second floor and gets the children out.

She refuses to come back with him to Westchester; he didn't think she would. She tells him she's only an "enhanced" individual, not a mutant; he tells her that doesn't matter. She says she really should go; he asks her if she'll stick around long enough for a drink.

"This isn't my world," she tells him half an hour later, after they've stowed the kids in the X-Jet and found a bar that's open late. "I was born in another world—another universe, I suppose. We were in a battle, fighting to save Earth from an alien invasion. One of their weapons unleashed some sort of whirlwind. I was sucked into it, and the next thing I know, well—" She sips at her drink, and Scott follows suit. They sit in silence for a minute before she continues. "I don't know how to get back," she says. "I don't know _if_ I'll be able to get back. But in the meantime, I'm fighting for this world as I cannot do for my own."

He reaches forward and pats her shoulder gently. "That's more than anyone would have a right to ask of you, but I'm glad you're here," he says. "Buy you another?"

* * *

He's on a reconnaissance mission when he sees her next. She's sitting in a bar, probably listening for gossip; he's establishing his cover so that he can meet discreetly with the bartender—who knows _all_ the gossip—after his shift. He spots her right away, but gives no sign, and she does the same. Trained in spycraft, then. She did say, after all, that she had fought in her own world as well as this one.

After twenty minutes, she slips into the seat next to him. He smiles, just a quirk of the lips for her alone, that nobody else in the room can see. "Find out anything useful?" he murmurs.

"No," she replies, looking straight ahead as if she wasn't aware he was there.

"There are two ways of avoiding suspicion in a situation like this," he says quietly. "Why don't we take the option that's more fun?" He slides his hand along the bar towards hers: an invitation of sorts.

She laughs quietly, and shakes her head just a tad, but she turns until she's almost facing him. "What about you, did you learn anything useful?"

"Not yet, but that wasn't the plan," he says. "I'm just killing time until later."

She slides her hand along the bar, until it's touching his. "Well then," she says, "I'll kill time with you."

* * *

"I had a brother," she tells him once. "In the world I came from."

"Does he—" he says, "Do you think he—"

"Misses me?" She shakes her head. "He died, a couple years before I came here. If he weren't, then, well...I'd be spending less time fighting other people's battles and more time trying to find a way back. Losing Pietro was the worst thing that's ever happened to me, and the only good thing I can say about it is that it can only happen once. I didn't lose him any more permanently when I left my world than when he left me."

"I had a brother," he says in reply, surprised to hear himself saying it. "Alex. He died a couple of years ago. He was quite a bit older than me. I wasted a lot of time when I was a kid being mad at him over stupid things, and then as I started to get older, he was never around. He had things to do and places to go, you know. It was only when my powers showed up that we finally started to grow closer again, and then, just a few days after that..."

"My brother was exactly the same age as me," she tells him. Secret for secret, trust for trust. "He liked to say he was twelve minutes older, but we both knew that wasn't enough to count. We did everything together—even volunteer to be experimented on, and then defect at the same time."

"What did you defect from?" he asks, but she shakes her head. This trust they've built up between them burns bright, but not yet strong enough. It ebbs and flows, like the sparks that fly from Wanda's fingertips. "Can I tell you a story about Alex?" he asks instead, and this time she nods.

* * *

When they meet again in Austria, he asks her if she'd like to join the X-Men. "Is that like the Avengers?" she asks. He hasn't heard of them, but when he tells her what her duties would be—protect vulnerable people, fight bad guys, research where the next threat might come from—she assures him they're much alike.

"You must be tired," he says. "To have a team at your side, and now all alone. Just because nobody from your old world has been able to overcome whatever's keeping you here, that doesn't mean you've left all support behind. If you come with me, you'll be part of a team. And you'll be with me."

She puts her hand in his, and lets him lead her back to the X-Jet.

* * *

"I can see why you chose her," Peter Maximoff says—Peter who's just now meeting her for the first time, Peter who doesn't know they share part of their name, Peter who didn't see her wince when he introduced himself by his full name and then zipped off because somebody was about to take the last slice of provolone from the snack table. He claps Scott on the back. "You sort of match."

That's when Scott finally finds out about the scarlet, once he manages to keep Peter in one place long enough to explain. It doesn't matter, though; he already knew they were right for each other, no matter what color she favors. And he hasn't placed much stock in colors for years now.

* * *

It's three years later when she finally says what he's suspected from the beginning.

They're leaning against a tree. It's a clear day, so the sky is probably bright blue, and there is probably a profusion of brown behind them, as their hair mingles together against the bark of the tree. But the only color Scott cares about is the sparks dancing on Wanda's fingers. It's always been the brightest, most beautiful thing he knows, since the first time he saw her. "Whatever the door between the universes was, I think it's closed now," Wanda says. "I've tried with this"—she makes some quick gesture with her hand, and her magic swirls larger for an instant, full of promise, before dying back again—"and nothing. I don't believe it will ever open again."

He puts his arm around her, because what else can he do? "I'm sorry," he says. "I know it's not what you had, but I hope this world can come to be a home for you."

She leans closer, and she doesn't sound as sad as he had expected. "It already has," she says, and takes his hand.

The scarlet sparks are still dancing there; they tickle lightly at his skin as she interlaces their fingers. And then she's leaning closer, and he closes his eyes as her lips brush his; but she's still the brightest spot on his vision.

He's beginning to believe she always will be.


End file.
